Something Different
by T.S.Orr
Summary: He's always gotten what he wanted, whether by charm or by force. But she, she has always been something different. ViRo One shot. Rated M for suggestive themes.


**Author's Note: **_ViRo One shot. _

**Synopsis:**_ He's always gotten what he wanted, whether by charm or by force. But she, she has always been something different. _

**Something Different**

He watched her as she slept, caramel colored skin contrasting against the white sheets of the bed they shared. He didn't do marriage, didn't believe in it and neither did she to be honest. Who needed the title when they had something stronger? Before her, there had been countless numbers of other women of all shapes and colors. Sometimes multiple women in a rented bed in one night, though he never stayed longer than it took for him to spray a load or two across the first available expanse of skin that wasn't his own. They were frails, good for a fuck or two nothing more, but none were like her. That was what mattered to him, she had always been different. He had to chase her, she hadn't come to him. She hadn't made his pursuit easy, it was all predator and prey, with him sometimes forgetting which one he was.

The first time he'd seen her, was in a crowd in broad daylight. Curvy, tall, both light and dark but mostly confident in her own skin. He'd gotten unnaturally fixated on her, almost obsessed with her from that very moment. He had weaved his way through the crowded streets during Mardi Gras just to get a whiff of her scent. Earth and rain, a smell that would be imbedded in the deepest recesses of his mind for as long as he drew breath.

From there, he had tracked her movements carefully, learned her habits, and hunted her down like prey. It wasn't until a month after he had been carefully stalking her that he'd learned her name in a book story in the French Quarter. Three weeks later, he had convinced her to give him her phone number, something completely out of the ordinary for him. Four 'coffee dates', two lunch dates, and three dinner dates later on the night before she was due to leave, she had finally wound up in his bed. His bed, not a rented one of a seedy motel. That was six months after the first hello, the longest he had ever chased a piece of pussy in his long, life.

They had spent the night of their third dinner date, her last night in New Orleans, naked in his bed. He hadn't been rough then, though every part of him wanted to fuck her through the mattress until neither one of them could stand. He had taken his time getting her off more than once using first his fingers, and then his mouth. By the time she lay there, her full chest heaving and her eyes glazed over, he knew that he wanted more than this night with her. He still chuckled remembering the look she had given him once he was completely naked before her. The slightly panicked look she gave him as he stood before her erect and ready, the way she crossed her legs unconsciously.

He had parted them, not by force, before crawling between her thighs, an arm hooked beneath her knee to spread her wide. He was just about to push into her, ready to feel her walls expand around his girth when she spoke, a hand pressed to his chest. The look he gave her was one of barely controlled need as he registered the words she was saying. Protection. Condom. No birth control. Well shit. He had growled, low and deep in his chest, but he moved halfway off of her, reaching into his nightstand for the foil wrapped jimmy.

Normally, he wouldn't have given a shit. If it had been anyone else, he would have just fucked them without and pulled out when he came. If they got pregnant, that wasn't his problem. This white haired vixen was different and he didn't know why. Propping himself up onto an elbow, he tore the wrapper of with his teeth before rolling the condom onto his cock. She barely got a thank you out before he was pushing inside of her, burying himself into the wet warmth between her thighs and his face in the crook of her neck.

He heard her whimper, heard her gasp as he began to withdraw, only to push back inside of her with a roll of her hips. He was taking his time to bring her back to the precipice of orgasm, torturing himself in the same vein. It was torture he was willing to endure however. It was only when her back arched upwards against the wide expanse of his chest that he dared go any faster. This wasn't his usual fuck, this was something different.

He had lain there that night, spent and sated as she slept on his chest. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't in a rush to leave. He lay with an arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped protectively around the bewitching beauty that had the tiger by the balls so to speak. For the first time in a long time, he fell asleep in a bed with someone else beside him, and oddly enough, he was happy. Needless to say, she missed her flight.

Now, three years and too many dates to recall later, as she lay there, his t-shirt stretched tight across her swollen belly, he smirked. She had thought that he would be angry when she first told him that he was going to be a dad. Truthfully, a part of him was, he'd never considered himself father material. How could he honestly? He was a killer, his own worthless excuse for a father had chained and starved him the first years of his life. It wasn't part of the plan. So, it went without question that he had his own doubts. It just went to show what a drunken night on her part, and his unleashed animal were capable of. How it hadn't happened sooner, they were either lucky or blessed because he hadn't bought another condom since that night.

He got used to the idea however, he had to admit that he liked watching her rub her stomach absentmindedly as she watched TV or read a book. The way her stomach expanded every week, the heaviness of her breasts. His favorite however, was the way she looked naked atop him. He enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed killing. Almost.

He had been gone for a week, his last job before the baby came. That's what he had promised her. He'd be there for the birth. That week had been hell, complete silence, no contact with her. He wouldn't admit it to her, but he was half scared that he would miss his kid's grand entrance into the world while off in some sand box killing some rag head sheik for a large sum of money. He had been distracted. He never got distracted. Maybe he was going soft, but he knew that she was just something different.

She didn't know he was back yet, he'd fought the urge to call her the moment his private jet set wheels on the tarmac, but he had. Now as he watched her, the way her body wrapped itself protectively over her stomach, he had a moment of doubt. One that he wouldn't admit to anyone, not even her. Could he do this? He had already changed so much from what he had been when he met her, but he felt he could always go back if need be. The birth of this child, his child that was something new entirely. Could he do this new thing? Something completely and utterly different than what he was used to?

He was quiet as he unlaced his boots and slid his shirt over his head, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. Slowly, he climbed into their bed, his arm sliding over her waist, she was all belly. He took a moment to inhale her scent before he nuzzled her neck, gently waking her from her slumber. He had his answer in that moment as she snuggled back against him.

"Daddy's home," he whispered before closing his eyes.


End file.
